Heckuva Way to Start a New Year
by Miskcat
Summary: Ed follows Roy through a snowy New Year's evening and gets his eyes opened to a great many things.
1. Chapter 1

Ed pulled his red coat more tightly around his shivering body and let out a long, slow breath, watching it stream in front of him in a thin fog before it dispersed into the crisp, cold night air. There was no chance the colonel would see the foggy breath as his subordinate huddled here in the shadows: the man was too busy letting the three women on the porch of the big house next door make a fuss over him. If he'd just go inside and get it over with, Ed could go back to Al and their warm dormitory room, and this whole silly escapade would be over with.

He'd only stepped outside for some fresh air on this quiet New Year's night, but when he'd caught sight of Roy Mustang sauntering through the quiet, gently snowing evening, enveloped in a long black coat, a canvas bag laden with presents hanging over one arm, he just hadn't been able to resist following him. If nothing else, he wanted to see who in the world the man had in Central, to take that many presents to.

He should have guessed, when their course gradually took them outside the realm of plentiful street lamps toward the seedier, more shadowed part of town, the temperature continuing to drop as his ears and hands got colder and colder. But it wasn't until Mustang stopped in front of a large three-story house on a corner facing a small courtyard with a little fountain in the centre (the water turned off for the winter), and began climbing the five steps up to the wide double doors, that Ed rolled his eyes with a private little sneer. Of course. That man and his women.

He knew what sort of house this was – and he knew what sort of work its female occupants did.

One of the doors had opened almost immediately at Mustang's knock, as though someone had been waiting for him. And as light flooded onto the wide porch from the front hall of the house, revealing the pine garlands interlaced with holly that outlined the door, three young women in long, slinky party dresses stepped outside to greet him.

Ed's first thought: Three of them? _Three at once?_

Maybe the guy's reputation was deserved.

The padding of snow underfoot and the lowered clouds tended to muffle sounds tonight, but the voices next door were easy to hear. "Roy – you're late! We thought you'd never get here," said one of them, a tall woman with long brown hair, as she slipped a hand through his free arm.

"I'm not that late, Petra; just a few minutes," Mustang smiled. He lifted his other arm, the one with the bag, to circle the bare shoulders of a shorter, younger woman with short blond hair. "Lily, you should have waited inside," he chided gently. "You're already cold."

"We've got the fireplace blazing," she laughed, her voice as light as her hair. "Even without you there."

The man leaned forward to press his lips to the black hair on the forehead of the third woman, standing in the doorway. "I don't have enough arms," he complained.

"Come inside, then, and we'll take turns," she teased.

_Take turns_. Ed shuddered. Well, that was it, then, he thought briskly. As soon as the coast was clear, he'd go back to the dorm. He'd found out where the colonel was spending his New Year's Eve, and it wasn't such a great thing after all. He wasn't sure why this should disappoint him, but it did, a little. He blew softly on his hands in the shadows of the building next door to the house, waiting for Mustang to go in with the three (three!) women.

But as they tried to guide him to the doorway, the man paused. "Just one more thing," he said, and raised his voice slightly. "Edward, you might as well come in for a cup of mulled wine before you go back. You must be cold by now."

Ed quelled a gasp of surprise, his heart dropping like a stone to his feet. How in the world did the bastard _know? _Ed had followed at some distance, and the thick layer of snow on the sidewalks had masked any noise he might have made. There was just no way the guy could know – and yet –

Should he stay quiet and not answer? Would Mustang think he'd made a mistake, that he hadn't been followed after all? But no, it was clear that he knew his subordinate was here, and who could guess what he'd do if he didn't get a response? He had white gloves on, but it wasn't clear whether or not they were _those_ gloves.

Ed took two reluctant steps out of the shadows, frowning darkly at the man over top of the waist-high hedge between buildings. "All right," he grumbled, his foggy breath blurring the image of the man on the porch. "How long have you known I was behind you? I was being careful."

"From the beginning," Mustang chuckled. "What, Ed, do you think I've spent all those years on a battlefield and not learned to detect when a non-expert is dogging me?" His eyes sharpened on the young man's face. "So exactly why were you following, anyway?"

Ed shrugged as a wave of cold seemed to go through right to his bones. He blew on his hands again, staring at his boots, this whole thing suddenly seeming very foolish. "I was just curious," he muttered. "I wondered who you were taking all the presents to, that's all. Sorry. I'll stop bothering you, and go now."

"No, I want you to stay. I can see you shivering from here. I meant it – come in and get warm first."

Ed's quick glance upward took in the colonel and the three women all dressed their slinky, revealing gowns, and he could feel his cheeks colouring even in the darkness of the yard. Go in _there?_ With _him?_ To get _warm_?

"Sorry," he snorted indelicately, "that isn't the way I spend New Year's."

"It wasn't a mere suggestion, Fullmetal. Come here please. Now."

"Fullmetal!" exclaimed the blond woman. "So this is the little alchemist you've told us about?"

"The _what?_" Ed burst out without thinking. "I am _not_ little!" Why, she was hardly any taller than he was himself! She had some nerve –

"Ed. Calm down and get up here." Mustang's voice had taken on the very slightest edge of frustration. "I'm not letting you go back to the dorm without warming up first. You were an idiot to come out without a hat and gloves – "

"_You_ don't have a hat," Ed retorted with a glance at the light dusting of snow glittering on the older man's dark hair.

Mustang went on as though he hadn't spoken, "And besides," he added with a sly glint in his eyes, "you did take the trouble to find out where I was going. You might as well come in and see the answer. You might actually enjoy yourself."

Enjoy! Did he mean – he couldn't possibly mean –

Ed walked around the hedge and climbed the stairs, feeling like a man climbing the scaffold. He vowed, if Mustang actually intended to make Ed join in with – with – whatever he planned to do in this place, he'd – he'd –

He was being stupid. Nobody could force him to do anything he didn't want to do – especially the colonel. And the guy had to be teasing anyway; Ed had pretty much asked for it by engaging in his amateur spy operation. So he swallowed past his pounding heart, squaring his shoulders as he came to a stop a safe distance from the tableau on the porch.

But "safe distance" apparently meant nothing, because immediately the black-haired woman, all in sleek, shiny red, smiled a welcome and took his hand. He tugged surreptitiously, trying to pull free, but she kept his fingers enclosed in an iron grip, and ushered him relentlessly into the large front hall. Mustang followed with his other two companions. The young blond woman – Lily, Ed remembered – shut the door behind them, while Petra, the taller woman hanging on the man's other arm, brushed a hand across his hair and shoulders.

"We need to get you out of that coat," she admonished. And, glancing over, "You too, Fullmetal."

Ed reflexively clutched the front of his coat shut, and Mustang burst out laughing. "Edward, you idiot. The thing is cold. If you keep it on, you'll stay cold that much longer. Just take it off. Unless," this with a suggestive smile, "you'd rather I encourage these three ladies to help you with that?" He himself, as he spoke, set down the canvas bag and pulled off his own heavy black coat, unfurled the elegant white scarf from around his neck, and removed the white (non-spark-producing) gloves from his hands, finger by finger.

"Oh yes!" Lily giggled, coming toward Ed, hands outstretched. "Let us take your clothes off for you…"

"_No_!" Ed blurted loudly. "I mean – " shrugging quickly out of the garment, "Here – take it." He held it out at arm's length, snatching his hand back the instant the young woman took it from him. She handed it to Petra, who disappeared, carrying both coats, into what seemed to be a large cloak room near the front door.

He was acting like a virginal adolescent. It was just a coat. Just a coat. He repeated the sentence to himself like a mantra, trying to get hold of his skittish nerves. He wasn't here for – well, for whatever Mustang was here for. Nobody could make him do anything he didn't want to. If these people got too…frisky…he'd simply retrieve his coat and go. As long as he could clap his hands together, none of them could keep him from leaving.

He had a swift, horrifying vision of his hands tied – apart – to the corners of a bedframe – and shrank from it with another shudder. It wasn't that he really _was_ so virginal (things happened, sometimes, while he and Al were travelling), but the thought of engaging in some kind of group thing with all these professional women – and with _Roy Mustang_ as part of the mix… He watched the man straightening the black silk vest over his white shirt, all dashing elegance, and turned away, gulping. It was just beyond contemplating.

To distract himself, he examined his surroundings. The reception room opened on the right side of the front hall, and Ed paused in the wide arched entryway to take in the velvet-upholstered wine coloured couches, the heavy, carved side tables of dark, polished wood, the thick curtains and tapestries on the walls, the red carpet so plush you could almost sink into it up to your ankles...

He wondered, fleetingly, why there were no customers waiting there, but Mustang drew his attention back by starting to make introductions. Petra and Lily were the names Ed already knew, and the other black-haired woman, almond-shaped eyes and olive skin revealing her eastern heritage, was called Jasmine.

Lily took Ed's arm, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Come and meet the others. They're going to be _so_ excited that Roy brought you to join us."

'Others.' _The others_??

Ed had to resist the urge to cast the older man an incredulous look over his shoulder as the young woman led him down the main hallway. His surprise grew as they completely bypassed the wide, curving, carpeted staircase that led up into the shadowed upper regions of the house.

Lily caught his expression and laughed. "Oh, nobody's working up there tonight. The house is closed for business. Tonight is all for Roy. New Year's Eve always is."

He couldn't help himself. He twisted to stare wide-eyed over his shoulder at Mustang, who smiled smugly back at him, making no reply.

After going past a couple of closed doors on either side of the hall beyond the stairs, they went through another set of double doors at the end, and entered the parlour of what seemed to be another complete house. Perhaps the real living quarters of all the women who worked here? But why were they bringing the men here, instead of taking them upstairs? Wouldn't they prefer to separate business from their private life? Ed wished he had a clue what was going on here.

He watched, mouth open, as several other lovely young women arose from their seats and approached his commanding officer with the same exclamations of delight that the man had elicited on the front porch.

_Just how many women did Mustang intend to keep company tonight??_

And – and – just how good _was_ he, that the entire house would shut down on what could have been their busiest night of the year, all so the women could concentrate solely on him??

Ed felt something under his chin, and discovered Mustang's finger there, gently pushing his gaping jaw closed. "Do try to show a little couth, Fullmetal," the man murmured before the fresh wave of women engulfed him.

The impressions assaulted Ed's senses all at once: the happy greetings of the women, the elegant furnishings (the furniture less heavily ornate than what stood in the "working" part of the house), the blazing fireplace on the other side of the room, the tall candlesticks in the frosted windows, New Year's garlands of pine and holly draping the walls and windows – and, permeating the atmosphere, the most mouth-watering aromas Ed had ever smelled in his life.

"It's the roast goose," Lily told him, still holding onto his arm.

"The – the what?" Ed faltered in bewilderment.

Mustang emerged from the veritable cloud of women who surrounded him to announce, "Ladies, I've brought a guest to join our entertainments tonight. I hope," he added with a narrow-eyed smile, "that you'll be gentle, for his first time. This is Edward Elric – the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Well. If Ed had thought Lily was excited to discover his identity, that had been the merest foretaste. He found himself now surrounded by the cloud, as the women advanced upon him and greeted him with almost the same enthusiasm with which they'd welcomed Mustang. One or two pulled him briefly into a voluptuous, engulfing embrace (was it getting hot in here??), he felt a couple of gentle strokes down his face with long fingers, their owners favouring him with suggestive smiles, and then another woman (he had a quick vision of billowing blond hair) cupped his face and kissed him so thoroughly that he could feel things stirring that really, _really_ shouldn't be activated.

"Wait – stop – "he gasped. "I'm not – I don't – want – "

He tried to back away but bumped into Lily, almost stepping on her foot. He wavered between anger and sheer terror, his fervent need to escape warring with the fear of looking like a total idiot while Mustang laughed at him. He was _not_ a shy, inexperienced school kid kissing his first girl, he was the Fullmetal Alchemist, dammit!

Even if that identity was actually part of his current problem –

"Roy! Girls! Stop teasing the poor boy!" A stern female voice broke into the festivities, and every head turned toward a wide doorway where three more women had now entered from another room. All were a fair bit older than the colonel, and the central figure, a buxom woman with billowing dark hair flowing over her shoulders, was clearly the one who had spoken. She frowned at Mustang and chided, "You're not being very nice, you know."

Mustang smiled. "I know," he agreed. "I've just been paying him back for following and spying on me."

"Well, stop it, silly child. And come here." Now the woman smiled back at him, and opened her arms.

His whole demeanour changed. He walked to her and laid his head on her shoulder as she embraced him. They hugged for a long moment, the woman patting his hair with a gentle hand.

"Welcome home," she murmured.

He lifted his head and smiled again. "Happy New Year, mom," he said, kissing her cheek.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ed was vaguely aware of Lily beside him, giggling, but he didn't notice that his mouth was hanging open again until Mustang turned, still encircled within his companion's arm, and laughed. "You don't look very dignified, you know," he teased.

"And you're enjoying your little secrets far too much," said the woman, squeezing his shoulder before releasing him and coming forward, the others stepping aside as she approached. "Edward, I've heard such good things about you," said the woman, holding out a hand heavily laden with jewelled rings. "My name is Chris Mustang, and your unkind friend Roy, here," she added, quirking an eyebrow at the other man, "is my foster son. This is my house."

"And this house, Ed," Mustang augmented with that lazy smile of his, " is where I grew up."


	2. Chapter 2

"So tell me," Ed muttered under cover of the other conversations, "were you ever planning to explain what was really going on here, or would you have let me be humiliated the whole evening?" He finished cutting the slice of roast goose on his gilded plate, the heavy silver knife clinking on the china plate. He put a piece into his mouth, savouring the warm taste of the goose and the almost sultry accompaniment of its blackberry-cognac sauce.

Mustang, sitting to his right at the long, heavy dining room table, picked up a thick crystal goblet and took a delicate sip of his wine. His dark eyes gleamed with amusement as he replied, "Well, I probably would have stopped them if they really had started trying to undress you."

Ed scowled into his mashed potatoes. "Nice," he grumbled. "You really are a bastard, aren't you?"

"Well, what would you expect, Ed?" the man drawled. "I think you deserved something for spying on me. Though I would have told you eventually, if mom hadn't."

Ed glanced at Madam Chris, seated to the colonel's right at the head of the table. She presided over a boisterous "family," the chatter and enthusiasm of the young women all down the table's length unhindered by the formal setting: the high-backed chairs with brocaded arm and back rests, the dishes and cutlery gleaming with silver and gold, the heavy goblets and crystal wine glasses, and the centrepieces of holly and gold set at intervals down the centre of the long table. Madam Chris was currently laughing, listening to some story that Lily was telling, sitting across the table from Ed.

_Mom._ This woman – the Madam of this house – was Mustang's _foster mother_! It was still almost impossible to encompass. No matter how often that incredible word left the man's lips.

Ed looked up again at his companion, who had picked up his cutlery and begun to cut a chunk of his roast asparagus. "I suppose I shouldn't have followed you," the younger man conceded. "I just got curious when I saw all those presents…"

"And here I forgot to bring one for you," Mustang raised an amused eyebrow. "So what should I do for you instead?" He lifted his eyes over his subordinate's head. "What do you say, Jasmine?" he asked the woman sitting to Ed's left. "Can you think of anything to do for Fullmetal, as a New Year's present?"

She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, the jewelled pendant around her throat hanging low…deep…the neckline of her red dress plunging… Ed gulped, watching her hand move toward him, as she reached across to touch his cheek with the backs of her fingers. "Oh, I'm sure I can think of something," she murmured with a little smile. "Several somethings, in fact."

He jerked his head away from her hand, his skin tingling most uncomfortably (really! it wasn't comfortable!) where she'd touched him. He was tempted to blurt some kind of complaint but, well…he was surrounded, wasn't he? And…he wasn't sure he'd be able to speak, actually…

"Oh no you don't," Lily protested from across the table. "If anyone gets Fullmetal, he's mine. I mean, he's the perfect size for me, don't you think?"

"Oh?" Mustang smirked. "How do you know what size he is?"

Ed whipped around as he gaped at the man. Who placed a finger under his chin and gently closed his mouth for him. Again.

"Now girls," chided Madam Chris from the head of the table, "you're going to make our guest uncomfortable. Time to stop teasing him or he's going to run away. And _you_," she added, frowning at Mustang, "stop instigating."

"Yes mom," he returned mildly. But the corners of his mouth retained their slight uplift as he lowered his head to take another bite of goose.

His foster mother regarded him a moment longer and snorted in quite an unladylike way before turning her attention to Ed. "I hope you're enjoying your dinner, Edward," she smiled.

"It's delicious," he assured her, his tense shoulders relaxing a little. "I haven't tasted anything so good in my whole life."

"If these girls keep bothering you, you give them a good yelling at," she instructed.

"Oh, he'll do fine, he's very good at yelling – ouch!" Mustang cast an aggrieved glance at the woman. "That hurt, I'll have you know."

"Did I kick you?" asked Madam Chris. "I'm sorry, dear, my foot must have slipped."

Ed suppressed his snicker with a forkful of mashed potatoes.

"Well anyway," Lily resumed a little more quietly, "I get to sit beside Ed when we open presents."

"Oh. No, sorry, I won't be staying for that," he shook his head. "I don't want to keep intruding – "

"Of course you'll stay," said Madam Chris. "At least, I hope so. It's not getting any warmer out there, and I hope we can make it an enjoyable evening for you."

"One at a time," Mustang murmured at his plate, "or in a group."

The titters ran up and down the table, and Ed dropped his fork, flustered, into his mashed potatoes. He caught a glimpse of the man beside him casting a triumphant look at his foster mother, but she took a calm sip of her wine and remarked quietly, with a sidelong smirk, "I can wait. You'll forget to keep your feet tucked under your chair sometime…"

Ed picked up his fork again, suppressing a grin. He just couldn't help it. If the man had really grown up with this woman, then Ed was beginning to see where he might have gotten some of his social traits. There were few people who could go toe-to-toe with Mustang, but Madam Chris appeared to be one of them.

Ed had been reluctant to agree, when she'd invited him to stay for New Year's Eve dinner. But she had seemed as glad to meet him as she said she was, and the invitation had appeared genuine, so he'd finally acquiesced.

There had been a few minutes socializing in the living room with warm mugs of mulled wine, steaming gently, spiced with cinnamon and orange – accompanied by the overwhelming sight of so many beautiful women, their throats, necks, and hair glittering with gold and jewels, their lithe bodies only just adequately covered by the silks and satins that adorned them…they walked and sat with such poise and grace…visions of beauty unlike anything he'd ever seen before…

As further introductions were made, so many hugs, touches, or light kisses were exchanged that Ed was frantically glad he had one automail leg, because it was the only thing keeping him standing, the other knee being ready to collapse weakly under him. He'd kept his face as impassive as possible (being fully aware of Mustang's amused eyes taking everything in), but sank with a grateful sigh onto the couch as Lily led him to it. He gamely tried to remember all the women's names – Laney, Allison, Devra, Petra, Jasmine, Asha – but he couldn't keep track, and forgot more than he remembered.

After a few minutes, the entire group had been directed into this huge, ornate dining room, where a marvellous feast awaited them: the goose on one golden platter, a large ham on another of silver, bowls of vegetables and sauces, stuffed mushroom appetizers, sweets, fruit, wines...

Mustang, taking the seat beside him, had commented, "Better than dormitory food, right, Ed?"

At which moment Ed had remembered his brother with a guilty start. "Al!" he exclaimed. "I should get back – he's going to be worried sick by now – "

"Relax, I called him," the man had said, shaking out his napkin with the efficient flick of a wrist.

Ed remembered: Mustang had disappeared for a few minutes after all the introductions had been made. "So you told him I was okay? Er…you didn't – you didn't tell him where we – "

For the only time so far this evening, the other man grimaced in displeasure. "Don't be such a disrespectful prude, Ed," he snapped. "But no. I didn't say exactly where we were. I just told him we'd bumped into each other and ended up with some of my friends. Satisfied?" The irritation vanished, though, as he added with a smirk, "Alphonse said we should enjoy our 'bonding time'."

Ed had barked an involuntary laugh. That sounded just like his brother. Ah, but if Al only knew what sort of 'bonding' went on around here!

Ed finished off what remained of his portion of goose, and was dipping his last piece of asparagus into a few drops of creamy sauce, when Mustang stood and carved another slice of goose from the platter. "You'll have more, won't you, Ed? There's still plenty." And another tender, juicy morsel landed on the younger man's plate, the skin at the edge crisp and golden, the white meat moist and tender. Mustang followed it with a dab of the stuffing, and more of the dark, rich blackberry-cognac sauce, poured from a small white pitcher. Meanwhile, a fresh platter of asparagus was also beginning to make the rounds.

By the end of the meal, Ed was more stuffed than that bird had ever been. When someone mentioned dessert, he almost groaned at the thought. But Madam Chris shook her head. "Let's allow our meal to settle first, and dessert will come later. Right now we should go back to the living room and – "

"And open presents!" Lily enthused, already heaving back her chair, her fair face flushed with anticipation, the pleats down the front of her navy dress vibrating in a most appealing way.

Ed had to grin at the general speed (and the noise!) with which the room cleared. As the young women followed Madam Chris into the living room, he lagged a little, unsure how he fit into the general mayhem. Mustang came a few steps behind, a companionable arm draped around the shoulders of one of the women who'd sat beside Lily – a young Xingian named Jheun, with exotic eyes (much like his) and long black hair tied back with a red ribbon.

She asked as they walked, her accent barely discernible, "How is Jean, Roy?"

He replied, "He's doing very well. In fact, he's got a new girlfriend."

"Oh, that's too bad," she laughed. "I liked him so much when I met him, that time I ran into you two on the street. I'd like to get to know him better sometime. He's very nice looking."

"Of course he is," Mustang drawled. "I only have nice looking people working for me. I brought you one tonight, you might notice. But about Jean…you do know the rule…"

"I know, I know," the young woman sighed. "Not while I'm still working."

"He just wouldn't understand, Jheun. I don't want him to get hurt."

"Well, once I'm finished my courses at the college…"

"That's right," the man agreed. "Then we might arrange for you two to meet again."

Ed frowned thoughtfully, wondering what difference her college courses would make, but as he entered the living room, Lily called him over to sit beside her on the couch, and he gave it no more thought. She'd been saving his place with a throw cushion. He shoved it back and sat down to her left, and immediately she leaned against his arm (her perfume…what was it…berries or something?), and took his right hand.

"Time for New Year's presents. Shall I do something nice for you, Fullmet – oh! This is your automail hand, isn't it?" She squeezed his forefinger, her own fingers probing through the fabric of the glove. "This feels so strange." She cast him a sly smile. "I bet you can do very interesting things with these metal fingers…"

Ed yanked his hand away, straightening the glove. He knew – he just _knew_ – he was blushing again. "I don't really like it being touched," he blurted. "Sorry."

"No, my fault. I should mind my own business. You do know, don't you, that we're all just teasing, and we wouldn't, you know, try anything?" The young woman peered anxiously at him, biting her lip. Her eyes were very blue. "We keep a strict distance from Roy's friends. I guess we tease too much, when he's around. We kind of egg each other on."

Ed regarded her for a moment, and then smiled. "It's okay. I know you're teasing," he said, and discovered that he really believed it. Relief sluiced through him in a cool wave. Maybe he should just let himself relax and enjoy the evening, instead of being so guarded about everything. He clenched and unclenched the metal hand a couple of times, then twiddled the fingers. "I never thought about it before," he said, "but you're right. I could learn to do a lot more things with this hand. So," he cast his companion a mischievous grin, "any idea who could teach me?"

She stared at him for a moment, mouth open, before bursting out laughing.

She was blushing! He'd made her blush! He was such a goof to be so happy about something that silly.

Across the room, standing with his canvas bag beside the armchair near the fireplace, Mustang laughed at his subordinate. "There you go, Ed," he chuckled, "that's getting into the spirit of things."

The women had arranged themselves on the various couches, armchairs, and even a few throw rugs on the floor, and the colonel made the rounds to all of them. He began with his foster mother by the fireplace, handing each woman a carefully wrapped and decorated package, leaning over either to kiss their foreheads or their proffered hands.

When he came to the couch, he murmured, "Sorry, Ed – I really would have gotten you something if I knew you were going to be spying on me."

"Very funny," Ed snorted. "I'm fine."

"Lily," Madam Chris prompted, "maybe it's time you tell Roy your good news."

Mustang looked down at the young woman, eyebrows raised, and her cheeks flushed again with pleasure. "I wasn't sure when to mention it," she told him breathlessly, "but I have enough clients as a seamstress that I'm going to be able to do it full-time by the end of January."

"Sweetheart," the man smiled, pulling her to her feet, "that's wonderful. I'm so glad for you." He pulled her into a tight hug as everyone else in the room clapped.

Ed watched the two of them, his jaw threatening to drop again. Nothing around here fit into his concept of a house like this. Absolutely nothing. And how did being a seamstress fit into, well, the other work she did here?

Lily brushed her hands down Mustang's black vest, smoothing it for him, before plopping back beside Ed on the couch. Her eyes still shone up at the older man. "I've known for a few weeks, but I wanted to surprise you tonight."

"It's the best surprise of the evening," he assured her, tousling her blond hair. "Now I wish I'd brought you two presents," he added, bending to set a small beribboned box into her lap.

"And you know what this means, of course," put in Madam Chris. "It's time for you to recruit us another girl, Roy."

"I see that." Mustang straightened and half-turned toward her. Smiling. "In fact, I already have one picked out," he said.


	3. Chapter 3

Ed glanced sideways as he danced, watching the colonel a few feet away twirling Devra near the phonograph. One of the two dark-skinned women who lived and worked here, she had taken the long red scarf the man had given her and tied back her voluminous curly black hair. The ends of the scarf whirled about her brown dress as she turned, like ribbons around a may pole.

"Pay attention to your partner, Ed." Jasmine's fingers tightened slightly on his left hand. "When you're just learning, you could end up kicking her in the shins if you aren't attentive. Which could be disastrous with that metal foot."

He jerked his head back, smiling sheepishly, and looked up at the woman currently teaching him some elementary dance steps. "Sorry about that," he said. "There's so much going on around here, I'm getting distracted." He judiciously neglected to mention the after-effects of the glass of wine he'd gulped, rather too quickly, while the presents were being opened.

"But there's always a lot going on, on a dance floor," she reminded him. "Though in this place, things do get a bit…overwhelming sometimes."

Nearby, ranged in front of the wide, frosted picture window with its two curved garlands of aromatic pine branches, several other young women had begun dancing with each other for lack of male partners. Which was why Jasmine, a dance instructor in training, had grabbed Ed for some quick preliminary lessons so that Mustang wouldn't be the only man available.

Lily's new earrings (courtesy of Mustang) glittered with light captured from the lamps and the candles as she danced beside Ed and Jasmine, in time with the phonograph music Jasmine had put on after the present opening. Following Lily's initial dance with the colonel, she had dragged Laney into this space at the end of the room near the phonograph.

Laney. The brown-haired woman who had leapt from the couch and into Mustang's arms, exclaiming, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, my darling Roy!" after opening his gift of high-quality chef's knives. Ed had gathered, from the other women's excited comments, that she had one more short internship before she'd begin her career as a certified chef.

He glanced again at the colonel, now laughing at something Devra had said. The man's amused eyes flickered to Ed's face, and Ed looked away, his stomach tightening. He didn't want to look at the guy. Or even think about him right now.

He was going to have fun for the rest of the evening if it killed him. With grim resolution he returned his attention to his feet, and to Jasmine's instructions. Even if he couldn't really feel the warmth of her skin through the dress under his automail hand, he could sense the curve of her waist. And when she leaned forward to murmur instructions, her black hair fell free of her shoulder and tickled his cheek. It was nice.

"There you go," she murmured, almond eyes smiling. "You're already learning."

"Alchemists tend to pick things up quickly," he told her.

"Then I think you're ready to try a dance with someone else," she nodded as the song drew to an end with a flourish of horns. "Lily, how would you like to give Ed a try for the next number?"

The blond girl came over, saying enthusiastically, "I've been waiting for my chance at him all evening."

"Don't ride him too hard, girls," Mustang cautioned, and Lily laughed as she pulled Ed's automail hand to her waist.

If he could just stop blushing, this would be a lot more fun. And it would help if the colonel would shut up. As Ed turned away with a scowl, he caught the surprise in the man's eyes, but ignored it.

The pace of the music picked up in the next song, but Lily kept her own steps simple, and Ed was surprised that he did so well. She was obviously very adept at adjusting her movements to fit the needs of the man she was with.

Another thought Ed wanted fervently to avoid.

In quick glances over his shoulder, he saw that Mustang had begun dancing with another woman – Asha, wasn't that her name? – who stood tall and elegant in a white, figure-hugging floor-length dress, her long blond hair rolled up and caught at the back of her head in a gold filigreed clip.

They made a striking couple, Ed mused. If you forgot certain things.

"Look at you, frowning," Lily teased, drawing his attention back as she smoothed a lock of hair away from his eyes with her soft fingers. "You're just as handsome as Roy is, you know."

"What are you – I wasn't even thinking of that," Ed retorted. He slowly steered her around, moving in time to the music, until his back was to the colonel and he could relax. The last thing he wanted, he growled to himself, was to be compared with that man, favourably or not.

"What, then?" Lily wondered. "Do you want to dance with Asha next? She's a very good dan – "

"How long have you worked here?" Ed blurted.

She regarded him in astonishment. She set her hand on his shoulder, a pleasant weight against his neck, and he could feel her fingers toying with his thick braid as they swayed together. "Let me think…eight years, I guess. Since I was thirteen."

Ed misstepped and almost stomped his automail foot on her toes. _Thirteen_.

He didn't – he _didn't_ – want to ask. But the words seemed to fall out of his dry mouth. "And how…how did you come here?"

"Roy brought me, of course. Like he brought almost all the girls. The youngest ones, anyway. We're so lucky."

_Thirteen_. The youngest ones. _Lucky_.

Ed wanted to be sick. He swung Lily around a bit too quickly, so he could glare at his superior officer, currently facing away from him. The man had the nerve, he thought indignantly, not to notice anything. Meanwhile the young woman's navy dress swirled and she laughed breathlessly. "I think you're getting more confident," she gasped.

The music rose to a loud conclusion. The colonel, after holding Asha's hand above her head and twirling her around, stretched out one leg, leaning down and dipping the woman above his bent knee, his arm securely under her back. They looked like a couple of ballroom dancing champions.

That smug, arrogant, self-satisfied show off –

Ed clenched his jaw and threw his automail arm around Lily's waist. He swung her around one more time and dropped her backwards over his braced knee, his chest and shoulder muscles tightening to compensate for the extra weight lying across the arm. She gave a shocked whoop and then, as the metal arm held her firm, she kicked out a dramatic leg and flung her head back, laughing in delight, her own arm encircling his neck.

"You are _full_ of tricks," she cried, flushed with pleasure as he lifted her back onto her feet. "I'm so glad you came tonight, Ed."

He cupped her face in both hands and planted a kiss on her full, smiling lips. "I need a drink," he announced, and stalked out of the living room.

The lamps had been turned down in the dining room, only a couple of candles left nearly guttering amidst the centrepieces in the middle of the long table. While the aroma of roast goose and ham still lingered in the room, all of the food and most of the dishes had been cleared away. In the faint, flickering light from the candles and the illumination slanting from the doorway on the floor along one side of the room, he could see the glitter of a few wine glasses still scattered on the white linen tablecloth. Scooping up a glass, he grabbed a partially empty bottle that remained from dinner. The wine poured in a gurgling stream of shadowed bronze, and he flung his head back and almost chugged it, his free hand leaning on the arm of his chair to support him. The tart liquid went down his throat, immediately triggering a delicious warmth in his stomach and chest.

_So there_, he thought, not quite sure what he meant. Maybe another glass would help him think. Or help him _not_ think. An even better idea.

He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, and the light diminished. He wasn't surprised, as he turned, to see the soft outline of Mustang's silhouette in the doorway. The candlelight created an occasional glint in the man's eyes, but wasn't bright enough to illuminate his face.

"Ed…?" the other man ventured softly. "Are you all right?"

"You," Ed growled, thrusting his glass in the colonel's direction and slopping what was left of his drink. "Don't you even talk to m—"

"Roy, I need you." Another silhouette: Madam Chris coming up behind her foster son, a hand on his shoulder. "I'd like you to look over a couple of books in the office – oh." Her head turned. "Edward? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt if you two were talking."

Ed couldn't see her expression any more than he could see the colonel's, but he favoured them both with a narrow grin. "No, we're fine," he pronounced brightly, finishing off the last drops of wine and waving the glass around for emphasis. "Go ahead, take him, he's all yours."

Both Madam Chris and the colonel remained as they were for a moment, regarding him in silence. Eventually the man moved, half-turning away. "Okay, I'll look at those books," he said, adding over his shoulder, "I'll be right back, Ed. You might want to think about switching to water for a while. Or ask one of the girls for some coffee." And once again the doorway was empty, the light from the other room slashing across the floor into the darkness of this one.

Switch to water. Or coffee. Ed snorted in derision, poured himself another glass, and drank it in a few gulps. There. Nobody was going to tell him what to do, especially a man like Colonel bloody Roy Mustang.

_Thirteen_. The youngest ones. _Lucky._

He walked back into the living room, watching himself placing his feet very carefully. Near the end of the couch, one of the double doors into the front part of the house had been left slightly ajar.

"Edward!" Lily called, waving from her perch on the arm of Madam Chris's chair by the fireplace. "Come back and dance some more. You've just started; you haven't danced with all of us yet."

Jasmine, once again bending to change the record on the phonograph, smiled over. "If he plans to do that, it will take him till dawn at this rate." The music began as she straightened: something symphonic, it sounded like. But Ed could dance to anything now. If Roy Mustang could do it, he certainly could. Even if the floor was getting a bit…wobbly.

As he approached the arm chair, another young woman came into view, hidden behind Lily. The young lady – hardly more than a girl, really – had sat through both dinner and the present-opening almost in silence. Her thick auburn hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back, glistening with subtle flame in the lamplight.

He should remember her name. They had made much of the fact that her present from Mustang had been a stethoscope, of all things.

Taking his cue from Lily's wink, he looked down at the girl and held out his hand. "Hi, Alison," he smiled, remembering just in time. "I'd like to dance if you want to."

The girl cast him a quick glance, eyes of emerald darting uncertainly to his face. "Would you really?" It was almost a whisper.

"I'd really like to," he nodded.

She took his hand and stood, following him past the fireplace to the other end of the room. When he turned to embrace her, he discovered to his pleasure that she was slightly shorter than he was, even in low heels. Finally, a girl who fitted him just right.

Except, he thought uneasily, glancing around and remembering exactly where he was, he didn't mean it like _that_…

Ed placed his metal hand on the girl's slender waist as gently as he could, the gauzy green material rustling slightly at his touch. She wasn't just smaller than the rest of the women here, she looked quite a bit younger too. He'd need to be more careful. And for some reason, his feet didn't feel quite as steady as they should.

But he smiled and began to move slowly with her, carried on the rise of violins.

"We're very glad to have you here tonight, Mister Elric," Alison murmured, eyes downcast, speaking so quietly that he had to lean closer to catch her words. The faint wisp of perfume made him think of some kind of flower. "Roy's told us a lot about you," she added.

Ed just bet he had. "Yeah, well," he smirked, "don't believe everything you hear. And did he tell you to call me Mister Elric? Don't listen to him. I'm just Ed, okay?"

Her startled eyes lighted on his face again. "But everything Roy told us was good," she assured him. "We all think you're a hero. You don't want us to stop thinking that, do you?" she added with the slightest mischievous glint in her eyes, a tinge of colour touching her pale cheeks.

Ed grinned. "Well, okay, if that's what you think, I'm sure I can put up with it."

"That's very gracious of you," she laughed. Glints of subdued flame sparked from her hair as her head moved.

Glancing aside at Lily, Ed returned a smirk at her encouraging wave. He'd noticed how everyone seemed very protective of Alison; he remembered how gently Mustang had smiled when she'd approached him to thank him for her present.

But at the reminder of his superior officer, Ed's stomach tightened again, and his flesh hand tightened of its own accord around the girl's soft fingers. He wished to goodness he just didn't have to think about Roy Mustang at all.

And yet he couldn't help but ask, trying to force a casual tone into his voice, "So, Alison…how long have you lived here?"

"Just three years," she answered. "Since I was twelve."

Oh dear god. _Twelve_. She really _was_ a lot younger than all the other women who worked here.

"A-and," he faltered, "how did you…come to be here?"

Except, he thought with sinking heart, he already knew the answer, didn't he? "Roy brought me here," Alison replied, for once looking straight into his eyes, her own green eyes shining. "I was very – "

"Don't tell me," Ed muttered, averting his gaze. "You were lucky."

"Yes. It was the best thing that ever happened to me."

This small, slender girl with her heart-shaped face and light step. Who was so shy she could hardly look into his face…

Who would go upstairs tomorrow evening when the holiday was over and – and – with the men –

_Twelve_.

Ed wasn't sure he could define all the things swirling through his mind: rage, alcohol, maybe grief. He wanted to scream. Or cry. It was none of his business.

_Roy brought me here._

He stumbled with a gasp, and forced himself to concentrate, remembering Jasmine's admonitions. If he kicked Alison with the wrong foot, he'd probably break her leg. But she smiled and murmured, "You're doing just fine, Ed." Trying to make him comfortable, when it was her own foot that had almost been stepped on.

Accommodating him? The way the women in a House like this were supposed to?

_Twelve_, dammit.

He swallowed hard. He didn't care. He wasn't supposed to care. These things happened all the time, in every town and city in the country. That was the way the world worked. He didn't care. He and Alphonse had been off by themselves doing adult things, terribly dangerous adult things in fact, since they were ten or eleven. This sort of thing happened in the world.

But Mustang – Ed's roiling thoughts crystallized at last on the one thing he'd been trying not to think about, the thing that made his throat tighten with unexpected tears – Roy Mustang was supposed to be _better_ than this –

And Ed was the Fullmetal Alchemist, and he _did_ care, and what was more, he went around the country changing things like this.

Didn't he?

He'd hardly been able to hear the music around the cacophony of thought howling through his mind, but he realized now that it was slowing down, fading to nothing. The song was over. It was possible that a lot of things were over.

He smiled at Alison, doing his best to mask his inner tumult, and led her back to the chair where Lily still waited, legs curled so her finely pedicured bare feet hung over the edge of the arm. "I'll be back in a minute," he told the two of them. "I need to get something out of my coat pocket."

"Hurry back, Ed," Lily responded. "You're leaving us with no men at all."

_Hurry back_. He wasn't even sure he was going to survive the next few minutes. But he couldn't just stand back tonight and say nothing, do nothing. No matter what consequences he faced.

_I just have to do this, Al,_ he thought.

He heard the next song begin, and glanced over his shoulder as he walked toward the door that had been left ajar. Lily had begun to dance with Alison by the fireplace, Jasmine was currently paired with Devra, Petra and Asha were dancing near the phonograph, and several other pairs near the window, while Jheun and two more women were huddled on the couch, giggling as they compared presents. The soft murmur of conversation underlaid the melody filling the room.

Just one large, happy family.

All those women coupled together as they danced. Some men, Ed had heard, really liked that sort of thing.

With a shudder of distress and embarrassment he turned away and, his stomach tightening afresh, he swallowed nervously and pulled the door open, stepping into the hallway, seeking his confrontation.


	4. Chapter 4

He made his way along the dark hallway, guided by a wedge of lamplight that emerged from a half-opened door nearby to fall across the carpet and climb the wall on the opposite side. He could hear the murmur of voices, but couldn't yet make out any words. The strip of light wavered and trembled a couple of times, forcing him to pause and blink until his eyes cleared.

Ed inched closer to the door, grateful for the plush carpet that masked whatever sound his steps might have made. His feet didn't feel entirely steady right now, for some reason. He pressed his shoulder to the wall and leaned slowly forward, peering around the door jamb with one cautious eye, several strands of blond hair straying off his forehead to dangle at the edge of his vision. He saw Madam Chris and the colonel immediately, bending with their backs to him, over a thick ledger illuminated by two large lamps on either corner of a wide desk. Behind it ranged almost an entire wall of shelves filled with books.

"So," Mustang mused quietly, "we don't quite have enough."

"Not with Lily's earnings about to go down," the woman shook her head. "She plans to contribute what she can, but we know she won't bring in nearly as much with her dressmaking, at least for a while. She's even thinking of keeping a couple of clients she likes, just to help out..."

"We'll have to discourage that," the man straightened up. "It defeats the whole purpose. Though she's a real trooper, to suggest it." He turned and half-sat on the edge of the desk, arms folded across his vest. Ed quickly pulled back from the opening, heart pounding in alarm, a wave of dizziness forcing him to lean back and balance himself by pressing his hands to the wall on either side of him.

Mustang continued, "So. I need to find some way to keep Rita from having to entertain clients after she comes here. I really don't think she could handle it much longer; she's very young, and as delicate as Alison was."

Wait a minute. Ed frowned into the shadows. What were they talking about? They were bringing another girl here, and _not_ going to make her work upstairs?

He stared at the closed door half illuminated on the opposite side of the hall, and concentrated on every word. For a moment he could hear a clock ticking, somewhere in the office, before Madam Chris spoke again.

"That's the problem, of course," she went on. "Having Alison not work all this time has stretched our resources. Especially paying for her medical training, on top of the fact that her studies are so heavy that she can't take a part-time job."

"I can help with that. There's a paid internship I can get her into at the military hospital, so she'll get credit for her practicum, but also bring in a bit of money."

"That would help, if you can arrange it," the woman agreed. "And then there's Laney. She's only got the one term left."

"I don't think that'll be a problem, mom," the colonel said. "There's another young lady I've been talking to, who can work in her place. She's not going to mind continuing to work for a while, if she can train for something else while she's doing it. She's very strong, and has a great attitude. Though I really wish…I could just take her away from the work immediately."

"Child, we wish that for all of them. If there were some way we could fund it…"

"I know. Never mind. At least we manage it for the ones who need it most."

"Though I swear, Roy, if Rita decides she wants to train in engineering or medicine, the tuition is coming straight out of your pocket this time."

Mustang burst out laughing. "It's a deal, mom. But I win – she wants to learn gardening."

Ed listened in silence, barely breathing, and gradually the heat of humiliation rose in his cheeks as the rage of a few moments ago drained away. He was an idiot. Again. He'd jumped to conclusions without hearing all the facts, and had gotten everything all wrong – _again_.

He'd heard enough. He'd better get back into the room with the women and try to pretend he hadn't been behaving like an insufferable grouch. Maybe they hadn't really noticed. Maybe Mustang hadn't figured it out…he hoped against hope that the man hadn't figured it out…

Ed pushed off of the wall and edged his way back toward the sliver of light from the slightly open door that led into the other half of the house. He wasn't feeling entirely sure on his feet, especially in this darkness, so he had to drag the fingers of his flesh hand lightly along the wall to orient himself. If he could just get out of here, just slip back in without anyone really noticing –

"_Not so fast!_"

Pain jabbed the side of his head as something – some_one_ – grabbed his ear and jerked him backward. He half staggered, half fell, arms pinwheeling as he was dragged inexorably into the office. Instinctively he jerked his head free, clapping his hands together as he whirled around –

"Ed no, god, _no!_"

He gasped, still reeling, at the sight of the colonel's face, stark white, mouth open in horror.

This house – the man's _home_ – about to be wrecked by some wild alchemical reaction.

Ed froze, swaying, his hands inches apart, the activated power tingling through his body like an electric current.

Madam Chris stepped forward, eyebrows drawn in a deep frown. "Just what were you –" But Mustang's arm barred her way. "Don't touch him," the man breathed, his eyes never leaving Ed's face. "Not when he's just clapped his hands. Edward. Are you…?"

The tingling had already intensified until it felt like a thousand tiny needles pricking every inch of him. Ed gasped, "Just…hold on. Have to…disperse…"

He went to one knee, closing his eyes against the frightening look on the colonel's face. Fighting another wave of dizziness he pressed his hands to the ornate Eastern carpet on the floor. He felt the alchemic power activate, and directed it as carefully and harmlessly as he could. He sensed as his chosen materials gathered together and began to alter to fit the pattern he saw in his mind. And at last the power siphoned out of him as it completed the work.

Leaning an elbow on his upraised knee, he opened his eyes and regarded the light grey single-cup clay teapot sitting on the carpet in front of him. He'd embossed a light pink floral pattern on the side, to match the lotus flower pattern in the carpet.

"Edward," Mustang ventured. "I don't see anything missing in here. What did you use to make the pot?"

Ed sighed. "I pulled all the dust off the shelves and the books and everything else."

Madam Chris looked around, eyebrows raised. "I knew I needed to dust in here, but I had no idea…"

"I pulled all the dust out of the air too. And between the floorboards."

"Right, then," Mustang said, voice hardening as he picked up the teapot to set it on the desk. "Now would you mind telling me just what you were doing out there?"

Ed got to his feet, swaying unsteadily, pushing his braid back over his shoulder with one hand, evasive eyes sliding off the other man's face. "Nothing," he muttered. "I needed something from my coat pocket – "

"Don't lie to me," the colonel retorted, frowning darkly. "You were listening at the door. Spying on me – again. And I want to know why. Why do you keep doing this?"

"I don't know!" Ed blurted, the colour rising in his face again. "I was stupid. Okay? I wanted to know what was going on here. That's all."

"And you never thought just to _ask_?"

"No," Ed mumbled. "You never tell me anything."

"Some things I can't tell you, Fullmetal, either because they're classified or you're safer if you don't know them. And some things aren't your business anyway. But I brought you inside tonight, didn't I?" the man demanded. "Instead of sending you away after you followed me? I did reveal _something_, didn't I?"

Ed shrugged. He wished he could stop feeling like an idiot. "Well, yes, but…"

"But _what_?" Mustang cried in exasperation.

"But, well…I don't know why. I don't know why you brought me inside. Why are you doing all this? At first I thought you were trying to make me look stupid to punish me for following you, but now…I don't know why you're doing this."

He saw Madam Chris watching her foster son, as though curious what his answer would be. Mustang leaned back against the desk once more, resting both his hands on the edge. He answered softly, "Ed…I just wanted you to have fun."

"You what?" Ed repeated blankly.

"You're always so serious, so driven. Alphonse has other things he enjoys, but you never let yourself be diverted by anything." The man ran a hand through his hair. "Ed…it's New Year's. I just want you to have a little fun, for a change. That's all."

Ed stared at him, mouth half-open. "Fun," he repeated, wondering when exactly he had lost his ability to say anything intelligent. He met the eyes of his superior officer, finally recognizing the concern there, and the heat rose inside again. This time, though, it thickened his throat, and made his eyes begin to sting mysteriously. "Colonel," he breathed hoarsely. "I'm sorry. I…I…"

Mustang's lips curled up in a wry smile. "Ed – you're drunk, or close to it. Look – you've satisfied your curiosity, and now you know what we do in this house. It's not perfect, and I wish we could do better, but at least now you know I'm not some kind of pimp. I hope you know, anyway. That's what you thought, isn't it?"

Ed lowered his eyes, face flushing. "I'm an idiot."

"Never mind. It was a logical conclusion, and I suppose I didn't really make things clear. Come on, why don't we just go back in and dance and forget everything? Midnight's not too far away now. Let's dance and have some fun and toast the New Year, and then we'll go home. How does that sound?"

Madam Chris finally stepped forward, slipping an arm around Ed's shoulders. With her free hand, she brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. "Come on back in, child, and I'll make you some coffee. And by the way – I quite like the new teapot. And now I can leave the dusting for another few days."

Another gush of inner warmth. What a nice person, Ed thought. "I'd actually prefer a glass of wine," he told her earnestly. "It was really good – "

"Coffee," the woman repeated firmly, and Mustang laughed.

"You'd better listen to her, Ed. She doesn't take kindly to being disobeyed."

The woman made a face at her foster son, over Ed's head, and then turned him around and shepherded him back down the hall and into the room where the other women continued to dance. Someone – Jasmine? Asha? – cried, "The men are back!" and immediately Jasmine pulled him to the other side of the room where a new record was just beginning to play.

He still wasn't entirely steady on his feet, but that didn't seem to matter. After a couple of dances with Jasmine, he found himself being kind of swung between Jheun and Lily, and they kept him upright. He rather enjoyed the mellow feeling that had begun to take hold of him. He caught occasional glimpses of Mustang dancing nearby, and kept flinging warm smiles at the man. He didn't quite know why that made the guy laugh, though…

After a while, Madam Chris brought him a mug of coffee and made him sit in her arm chair until he'd drunk at least half of it. It was delicious – was there chocolate in it or something? And there was some kind of nut flavour too, he thought.

Then – more dancing. He was really getting the hang of it now, even if he did stumble occasionally. He didn't remember being dizzy when he danced before, but it didn't matter. This was fun. Lily's short blond hair had begun to form damp curls all along her hairline, and Devra had discarded her long red scarf. He noticed that Mustang had unbuttoned his vest, and that the man's tie was missing.

He decided that he'd have to tell Al tomorrow: they needed to have fun sometimes. He was the big brother. Time to put his foot down. Not his automail foot, though, or it would go through the floor. He laughed to himself, then slapped his hand over his mouth to stop the laugh from turning into a giggle. He had an image to maintain.

He lost track of time as he danced, took another break to finish his coffee, and got up to dance again. This time the room really spun, and he'd have keeled over if the colonel hadn't been nearby to grab his arm and prevent it. "You really are drunk, Ed," the man laughed. "All those glasses you had before are really taking effect now."

"N' I'm not," Ed maintained staunchly. He steadied himself, looked down to make sure both feet were actually on the floor, and walked carefully back to the dance floor.

A few minutes later, Lily called out over the music, "It's almost time, everyone!"

Alison, with whom he'd been dancing, stopped immediately and dashed off somewhere. Looking around in confusion, Ed saw Jasmine at the phonograph, replacing the record that had been playing. The new tune was familiar, and he knew he should recognize it. A vague memory flashed into his foggy mind: hadn't his mother sung this song sometimes at this time of year? He wasn't sure, and the thought briefly saddened him, until he found himself with another glass in his hand, wondering how it got there. He took a little sip. Grape juice.

"It's best you don't have any more wine," Madam Chris smiled at his side, "but you can still make the toast."

Everyone in the room had found a glass of wine and now stood watching Lily as she hovered in front of the fireplace, peering at the clock on the mantel. She pushed a lock of hair behind one ear and counted down as the last seconds of the year ticked away. "…seven, six, five, four, three, two, one… Happy New Year!" she cried, turning to lift her glass to her family.

"Happy New Year!" The calls rang back and forth across the room, punctuated by the ringing clinks of wine glasses. All the girls began to take quick drinks of their wine and then hug each other.

Mustang touched his glass to Ed's, his dark eyes smiling. "Happy New Year, Edward," he murmured. "I hope this year brings you closer to finding the way to restore Al's human body."

There was that tight throat again. "Thanks. I mean it." Ed's eyes went all misty. "You know, you – you're a good guy – really – "

"Don't," Mustang laughed, holding up a cautioning hand. "Oh please, just don't even start. You'll be so sorry tomorrow if you keep talking."

Ed stared at him, mystified, but right away Lily distracted him, coming up and leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Then he was engulfed by the others, who each took a turn (and sometimes more than one) giving both him and Mustang a New Year's kiss and hug. That felt very, very nice, Ed had to admit. He didn't know why he hadn't tried this sort of thing before. Or why he'd been so nervous about it when he first arrived here.

Finally Madam Chris approached the two men, put an arm around each of them, and pulled them simultaneously into her expansive embrace. "You boys have made it a very special night," she murmured. "I'm so glad you came to join us, Ed. We'll want you back for dinner again soon, and next time we want to meet your brother too. Understand, Roy? Soon."

"Yes ma'am," the man agreed.

It didn't take long after that before Ed found himself enjoying still another pleasant round of hugs and kisses as Mustang returned to the office to call a car and driver so they could both go home. A few moments later, back in the front hall of the main house, Madam Chris brought out their coats, and Lily helped Ed into his, since for some reason his hands didn't seem to be as dexterous as usual.

"Remember, Ed," Madam Chris reminded him, holding Mustang's long black coat up by the shoulders so he could shrug himself into it. "Dinner with you and your brother. Soon."

And at last the car arrived. As Mustang kissed his foster mother and then opened the door and stepped outside, Lily gave Ed one last hug and murmured in his ear as she kissed his cheek again, "Just wait till I quit working upstairs. I'm going to see you again, and that's a promise."

And at last the two of them were on their way, waved on by several young ladies in party dresses all gathered on the front steps of the most unusual brothel in Central City.

As Ed settled into the back seat beside his commanding officer, Mustang leaned forward and murmured to the driver, "I think we'll head to the military dormitories first, if you don't mind. I need to get this young man safely home first."

Ed leaned back and let his head sag against the window. The car began to move, and he watched the buildings go slowly by as the driver carefully manoeuvred the vehicle along the quiet, white-shrouded streets. Snow continued to fall, very lightly, setting sparkles into the night air that glittered like diamonds whenever they passed under a street lamp.

All those young women, Ed thought, half-dozing in the dreamy warmth. They'd probably all worked out here over New Year's at one time or other, on the cold streets where no one worried about them or took care of them. Then along came Roy Mustang, a man of more facets than his subordinate had ever guessed, and he'd saved them from the street and taken them to that loving, happy house. A place where they could learn other skills, have a family, have a hope of getting out of their work altogether and have something good to live for, work toward, and look forward to. Something to hope for.

That could make all the difference in whether a person gave up, or kept striving to make something good in their life. Ed knew how all these women must feel, being given this unexpected and wondrous hope. After all, hadn't he had the same experience himself?

The thoughts and memories flowed by, like the sights on the street outside, moving of their own accord and without effort. He remembered his own despair, that night about six years ago, the night he'd committed his great sin and robbed his brother of his body. He'd been in such terrible pain; it had transcended all the painkillers that Pinako Rockbell had dared to give him.

He'd been so hopeless, lying maimed and sick, half-delirious, hardly caring any more if he lived or died. Things had gone so badly, and there had seemed no way of ever repairing the damage he'd done, or of rising up from the bed to take action again. He honestly thought, now, that he'd been on the verge of just letting go, giving up and letting himself die. Such despair, when he was barely eleven.

If he hadn't been given that hope – if Roy Mustang hadn't come along just when he had, at just the right moment, and planted the seed of the idea that Ed could become a State Alchemist and maybe still have a hope of atoning for what he'd —

Ed's breath caught. The memory cut sharply through his drowsiness and the mellow afterglow of the alcohol. As though it were yesterday he remembered a dark-haired young man leaning over his sick bed, official pocket watch dangling from one hand, a faint smile on his lips as he dangled the knowledge and possibilities of State Alchemy in front of Ed's eyes, like a lure, like a lamp in darkness, a beacon of hope…

Ed sat up and turned to find Mustang's thoughtful eyes on his face. Licking his lips cautiously, the younger man asked, "Why did you come into the house, that night? The night Al lost his body? The night I was…dying?"

The man smiled – the same small, secretive smile from that long-ago night, and looked away. "I was in the neighbourhood, Fullmetal. You know that."

"But it wasn't just that," Ed insisted. "It was more than – "

"Ah, here we are. Good." The car passed through the arched, wrought iron gate and traversed the drive up to the main double doors of the military dorm. As the vehicle pulled to a stop, the driver putting on the parking brake and waiting as it idled, Mustang turned another smile on his young subordinate. The same smile that he'd turned, earlier, on Lily. On Jheun. On Alison. "Go home and have a good sleep, Ed," the man said softly. "Al's waiting and it's late. It's a new year, and you still have a lot of work to do. Don't you?"

Ed regarded him in silence a moment longer. At last he returned the smiled. "Yeah," he nodded. "I do. I'm not done yet." He opened the car door and stepped out onto the walk in front of the dormitory steps.

"Sleep well, Ed."

"You too, colonel. And…" That lump in his throat again. "Thanks. Thanks for…everything."

He stood on the walk, listening to the snow squeak under the tires of the car as it drove away, the snow continuing to fall, silently, on his hair and shoulders. Even after the vehicle had turned out of the drive and he heard it accelerate as it vanished through the gate, he remained as he was in the oval of light from the lamps on either side of the doors. Standing and thinking.

As the presents had been passed around and opened tonight, Madam Chris had apologized that they didn't have one for him. But he knew better now. He was quite sure he'd been given his present already. Six years ago.

And man – he suddenly realized – it was _cold_ out here! What was he doing, standing outside and letting himself freeze like this? The colonel was right, he needed to get some sleep, and then get right back to work. Always, of course, stopping sometimes just to have a little fun.

Ed unlocked the front door of the dorm and hesitated one last time, turning back and lifting his face to watch the snow whisper its way down from the sky. What a night.

Heck of a way to start a new year, he thought.

FIN


End file.
